


My Hero

by Severina



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 15:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: Christmas, Labour Day, Independence Day... and now this. Maybe there is something to that McClane Holiday Jinx after all.





	My Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [persnickett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persnickett/gifts).



> Written for the fabulous persnickett, who won May's word count war and has been waiting patiently for this. She gave me the following prompts: movies, superhero, sushi, shrapnel. I hope you enjoy, Snick.
> 
> * * *

"You're going to love it, I swear!"

John nodded as he pushed his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. Been a long time since he stood outside in the cold to get in to a movie. Might have been… yeah, taking Jack and Lucy to see one of the _Star Wars_ films back in the day, some anniversary re-release. He remembers them standing beside him in line, solemnly debating who would be the better Jedi. He'd thought it would be Jack who'd rave about the film, but it had been Lucy who'd demanded the _Star Wars_ bedsheets and the lazer thingmabob for Christmas. Lucy who'd dressed as Han Solo for three Hallowe'en's running, while Jack moved on to Ninja Turtles or somesuch.

When he'd agreed to this, he'd expected that Matt would pull out his cell phone and order them some tickets; hell, he even had his hand out waiting for the pass-over so he could place his concession stand order. Large popcorn extra butter, and Doc Barnes and his dire warnings about cholesterol levels could go fuck themselves. Yeah, he might bitch about the loss of the simple things, but pre-ordering concession stand food was the pinnacle of modern technological advancement. He'll take strutting to the front of the line and bypassing all the other popcorn junkies any day of the goddamn week.

Turned out that special super duper advanced screenings don't offer pre-sales. And since only the first hundred or so people are going to get the vaunted golden ticket, he and Matt have been standing outside since practically the butt-crack of dawn for a seven p.m. showing.

Okay, technically Matt's been there since dawn. John himself only showed up at four o'clock, but that's damn long enough when it's minus 80 outside with the fucking wind chill. Give or take.

He doesn't remember it being quite this cold for that old _Star Wars_ flick, but the anxious jittering of his viewing partner hadn't changed much. Also, the boredom of waiting in line for hours is exactly how he remembered it. 

Kinda makes a guy wish he had something to do to pass the time.

"Remind me again," he says, "is this the one with the guy who gets real little?"

"Okay, that's _Ant Man_ ," Matt said. "Remember, we watched that one and the sequel last week?" 

John frowned. "Maybe?"

"Scott Lang is Ant Man and he's working with Dr. Pym? And he falls in love with Hope Van Dyne, who's—"

"Gwyneth Paltrow!" John says. "I remember now. You know, her mom was a real looker back in the day. Wouldn't kick her out of my bed for eating crackers now, either."

Matt sighed. "Hope Van Dyne is _The Wasp_ , and she's played by Evangeline Lilly."

"Nope. Never heard of her."

"You just watched two movies with—"

"OH, then this is the one with the girl who goes like this," John said, waving his hands in an elaborate pattern in the air.

Matt blinked. Made a grab for his arm while smiling awkwardly at the girl with the green hair and matching green and black jacket who was standing behind them in line. Like a girl who looks like an oversized crayon has any right to judge his very accurate impression. And like _Matt_ has any right to look embarrassed when his arms windmill so freakishly when he's excited that John's learned to keep on his toes whenever they're in public so he can run interception. 

"What," Matt bit out, "are you doing?"

"You know, the girl who—" Matt might have a death grip on his bicep, but John's hands were still free. He again swirled his fingers through the air, demonstrating – "like that, and then things move around or explode."

"Are you… can you possibly be talking about Scarlet Witch?"

John shrugged. "Pretty thing."

"Okay, Scarlet Witch doesn't even have her own movie—"

"You know who played a really great Hulk?" John interrupted. "Lou Ferrigno."

"No."

"Can't beat the classics, kid."

"I can. I can beat them with a large stick until they go away and you wake up to the fact that nobody will ever top Mark Ruffa—"

John snapped his fingers. "Got it. This movie is about the guy with the giant A on his little hat."

"That's… that's _Captain America_!! Even you know who Captain America is! I can't believe you… oh, oh, okay. You're messing with me."

He'd done well so far, but John just couldn't hold in the smirk any longer. He slung an arm around Matt's stiff shoulder, leaned in to nuzzle behind his ear. "Can't help it, kid. You make it so damn _easy_."

Matt sniffed. "It's not MY fault that your pop culture education is so lacking in anything beyond 1975 that I believe you!"

"You're doin' the best you can to broaden my horizons, Matty."

"I really am!" Matt answered solemnly. "This? All for your own good. Superhero movies aren't just for kids anymore, McClane."

John raised a brow, then glanced down the row of shivering would-be attendees. If a one of them besides himself was over thirty, he'd eat his badge. 

"Okay," Matt said after following his gaze, "this is a special case. But superhero movies now are important barometers for…" He shook his head. "No, you know what? I'm going to shut my mouth about social injustice and just say that there's some really cool action scenes and funny one-liners. And also, you totally need to see this because you don't want to be left out of the interesting water cooler conversations the next day, am I right?"

John matched Matt's solemn expression. "Would be a tragedy."

"This is what I'm sayin'! You don't want Lambert to get the drop on you."

John snorted. "Last time Joe Lambert had the advantage over me was _never_ ," he said. He cocked his head, considering. "Now Connie, on the other hand—"

But he never got to finish that thought. That was when the building exploded.

* * *

"And that's when the building exploded," Matt said.

"As fascinating as we found that play-by-play on Captain America and Scarlet Witch – who seriously is hot, by the way, smokin', excellent taste dude," the Warlock said with a nod at John before turning back to Matt, "– you should have led with the explosion, Farrell."

John shifted on the sofa. "Jeeeezus. The building didn't _explode_."

Matt waved a hand in the air. "The whole glass front of Maury's Under The Sea Emporium _shattered_. Some guy got knocked unconscious by one of those aquarium castles! And do I need to remind you that you took a hit from a charcoal filter that left you staggering in the street for approximately three point seven minutes? Longest three minutes of my life, by the way."

"Wait a minute," Lucy said.

"Also?" Matt soooo wasn't finished. "Dead fish _everywhere_. So gross."

"So—"

"I know, okay, so here's the best part. So I got John down on his knees, right—"

"Hold it! Time out!" Warlock interrupted. "His _daughter_ is in the room, man! We really don't need to hear how you celebrated your escape from death's door."

Matt shook his head, snagged another chip from the bowl on the ottoman, and gestured with his other hand. "John was _out of it_ , all right, so I got him on his knees so he wouldn't _fall_ , you pervert, and I had him put his head down and do some deep breathing, and I put some water on the back of his neck. Because lemme tell ya, when a fish store explodes?"

"It didn't expl—"

"It exploded!" Matt reiterated loudly. "And when a fish store _explodes_ ," he said with a final warning glare at John, "the street becomes a river. There was no lack of cold water. Most of it was likely contaminated with fish poop, but hey, it's not like we were drinking it. So." His chest puffed up. "Probably saved this man's life, thank you very much."

"My hero," John deadpanned.

"Yeah, I'm sure my dad was on the brink of total collapse if you hadn't been there with some dirty water and a dishcloth," Lucy said.

"I stripped off my coat and used my T-shirt. In sub-zero temperatures, by the way."

"I stand corrected."

"Could've got hypothermia," Matt muttered.

" _Anyway_." Lucy said after grabbing her own sour cream 'n onion, even though she _said_ she was on another diet and yet she'd gone through half a bowl of chips in like half an hour but really, none of his business. "My real question is this. Was it a holiday?"

"THAT!" the Warlock crowed.

Matt huffed out a breath. "Do you honestly think I would book something for a holiday? I checked the calendar before I even ordered the tickets! There was nothing official. Just one of those crazy made-up holidays, like Talk Like a Pirate Day or National Kitten Day."

The Warlock leaned closer. "And this one was…"

Matt bit his lip. 

"Farrell???" Lucy urged.

"Uh. Okay. So it might have been Curious Events Day."

"Hah!" Lucy and Warlock shouted in unison.

"It wasn't even terrorists, though! It was a gas main! That _exploded_ ", he added with another scowl at John, who raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Doesn't matter," the Warlock said while Lucy shook her head in agreement. "You tempted fate, man." He looked to Lucy. "Curious Events Day! What was he thinking?"

"Should've stuck with National Kitten Day," Lucy put in.

"Just don't go to the zoo that day," Warlock said.

"Or anywhere near the SPCA," Lucy added.

"I hate you guys," Matt moaned. He flopped back against the leg of the sofa, swiveled to look up at John sprawled its full length. "Why did we invite them over?"

"You wanted to brag about saving my life?"

"Right," Matt said. "Damn it."

"Just think, if I hadn't moved to the big city we could've done all this shit on Skype, dude," the Warlock said.

"Lucky me," Matt intoned.

Lucy hauled herself to her feet; gathered up her purse and keys. And – if Matt wasn't mistaken – gazed longingly at the chip bowl. "Well, it's been a slice. Thanks for 'saving my dad's life', Farrell," she air-quoted. "C'mon, Freddie, I'll give you a ride home."

"Oooh, alone in the car with a hot chick," the Warlock crooned. But if one McClane death stare was frightening, two was absolutely deadly. He gulped. "Where I will be on my best behaviour at all times."

"Of course you will," John said quietly.

Quiet McClane was the scariest McClane of all.

Lucy let the Warlock pass her into the hall, then paused at the archway leading into the living room. "And hey, you two are still coming over for dinner with me and Walter next Saturday, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it, sweetie," John said.

Matt barely held in a snort. If he had to stay awake one more night listening to John bitch about how Lucy's new boyfriend looked like a meth-head and how he found an extra toothbrush hidden under her sink and _tell me truthfully, Matty, do you think he's living with my baby girl_ he was going to ask someone to spork out his eardrums, swear to god. 

"Great! Because I just realized… it's going to be National Candy Corn Day." Lucy cocked her head, eyes shining with amusement. "That's safe, right?"

"Ha ha, funny," Matt said. 

"I'm not jinxed!" John said.

"Okay, Dad."

"I'm not!"

Lucy was still laughing as the door shut behind her. Matt shook his head, bent to gather up the chip and dip bowls. Joined John in the kitchen where he was stacking the empty beer bottles in the box to be returned – reduce, reuse, recycle and all that – and rinsing the glass that had held Lucy's lime ginger ale. Matt tossed the broken remains of a few Lays into the garbage can and added the chip-dusted bowls to the sink. Watched as John ran the hot water and squirted in a dollop of Dawn.

"We probably ought to make sure there's no carnivals setting up around Lucy's house next weekend," Matt finally said into the silence. "Candy corn always gets sold at carnivals."

John's shoulders tensed as he shot him a sidelong glance. "Really, kid? You too?"

Matt shrugged, took the wet bowl from John and snatched up a tea towel. "And anything involving costumes. Because candy corn gets given out at Hallowe'en and kids get dressed up on Hallowe'en…"

John sighed.

"And it _is_ October," Matt said.

John let the last bowl slide back into the sudsy water. "I'm jinxed."

" 'Fraid so."

"There's no more Grubers. I checked."

"Good to know."

John sighed again, then spun to wrap his soapy arms around Matt's waist and pulled him in close. "But you'll always be here to save me?"

"Try to stop me," Matt said. He gave John a quick peck, then slithered out of his hold so he could work on drying up the bowls. "Also? Accepting this could be a good thing. We'll always know what's coming up so we can prepare accordingly. Like boy scouts. Except with guns and laptops."

John snorted. 

"We may have to cancel that bowling thing with Connie and Eddie next month, though." When John leaned a hip on the counter and crossed his arms, Matt stared down into the soap bubbles to master his expression. When he thought he was sufficiently prepared, he faced John. "It's National Marooned Without A Compass Day," he said.

John blinked. Slowly.

Matt leaned to the side, lowered his voice. "I'm afraid there might be pirates," he said.

John McClane could move _ninja_ -fast when he was so inclined.

The tea towel was whipped out of his hands and snapped across his ass faster than the eyes could follow. Matt yelped, laughed, dropped the bowl, ignored the mess, loved his crazy life, and took off in a mad dash to the bedroom.

Twenty minutes later he was doing an entirely different kind of yelping.

.


End file.
